


You should be dancing

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flash Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"If you're not drinking, you should be dancing." </i> Arthur + Merlin + disco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You should be dancing

"It'll be fun," Gwen says, happy because she's got Morgana's arm around her waist and because she's wearing crazy yellow platform shoes and a dress to match. "Really, Merlin, you could have _fun_ once in a while."

It won't be, but Merlin just nods and lets Gwen tangle her fingers in his as she pulls him down the pavement towards the club.

It's not that Merlin doesn't like… fun. Fun things. He does. He likes afternoon reruns on the telly and driving down to the seashore and watching Gwen watch him cook dinner in their walk-up flat.

Merlin, however, does not like disco. He doesn't like The Bee Gees and he doesn't like Gloria Gaynor and he most definitely does not like music that tells him to shake his booty.

Just. No. He likes The Beatles, and The Who, and sometimes Bowie, and he's waiting for Gwen to decide this is ridiculous and she wants to go somewhere with less mirror ball action and maybe more weed.

Like, perhaps, home.

Because, really, he doesn't like standing at the bar, watching Gwen dance with Morgana and Lance.

(Well. Maybe. A little. They're all well fit. And good for Gwen for deciding not to decide between the two of them. Between all that warm skin and dark hair, Merlin's not sure he could make any sort of decision, either. Not that anyone's asked him to, lately.)

Still.

What he really doesn't like, what he really, really doesn't like? Smarmy gits in tight jeans who walk up to him at the bar, try to pull him, and then proceed to accidentally spill their drinks down the front of his shirt.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Smarmy Git shrugs and turns to order another drink. "Getting your attention?

"You… this was my last clean shirt." Merlin pushes the drink away that Smarmy Git offers him. It's just a green tee shirt, about as faded and beat up as the Levi's he's got on, but it was clean up until about thirty seconds ago.

"Maybe you should be thanking me. You know, that should would look better—"

"—I swear, I will kill you if you use another lame chat up line on me."

Smarmy Git has the decency to shut up and take a sip of his own drink and Merlin has the misfortune to notice that the only man who's paid him any attention tonight is not only a complete tosser, but a tosser with blond hair down to his shoulders, an amazing profile, and a shirt open practically down to his stomach to reveal his chest.

Damnit. Smarmy git tosser is fucking well fit, too. And knows it from the way he smiles as he notices Merlin's eyes tracking down his body.

"If you're not drinking, you should be dancing."

"With you?" Merlin frowns down at his damp shirt, frowns at the dance floor, and stops frowning when he sees Gwen, the spinning light catching her hair and eyes, smile at him. No way he could ask her to leave yet. "Yeah, all right."

"With me—oh, you're sort of easy, aren't you?"

Merlin shrugs. A few steps closer to the dance floor, he can feel the pulse of music and the scent of heated skin in the air. "Wait. What's… tell me your name. In case I forget to ask, after."

"After what?" Another knowing smile. "Wait. You don't know? Arthur."

"Arthur," Merlin says over the music, laughs, and brings his lips closer to Arthur's ear. "I'm Merlin."

Arthur laughs, too, and though he's a full of himself, smarmy bastard with great hair, he's also a decent dancer. For all of five minutes, anyway, after that, they're more feeling each other up than dancing, Arthur's hands wandering under Merlin's shirt, and Merlin's settling at his hips and then cupping his arse.

The music is wretched, absolutely positively wretched, and Merlin will never have any love for KC and the Sunshine Band, but Arthur's body is warm and firm against Merlin's, and he has no concept of personal space. His mouth moves over Merlin's, just as warm and firm, and he murmurs half-formed words against his lips, then sighs when Merlin lets him out of a kiss that's pretty much all tongue.

What happens next is about as dizzying as the spin of mirrored light: the music changes, three seconds of silence passes on the dance floor, Arthur grabs his hand and they press through crowd of sweaty bodies, and Merlin finds himself with his tongue in Arthur's mouth again, all warm, wet, wonderful.

"Where are we?"

"Washroom," Arthur pants into his neck, one palm pressing against the growing hardness at Merlin's crotch.

Merlin glances around. Right. Washroom, but not the dodgy men's toilets; this room's cleaner, smaller, and the light less harsh. And that's all Merlin has a chance to notice before he feels Arthur start to unbutton his fly and slip his fingers into Merlin's shorts.

"Oh, god. Fuck. _God_. I want to suck you off," Arthur says, his lips still close to Merlin's neck, and licks at the join between Merlin's neck and shoulder. "Get me off first."

Merlin tips his head back so that it almost knocks against the wall. Then, realizing what Arthur just said, snaps his eyes open. "Wait. What the fuck. What…"

"Trust me. You won't be good for anything once I'm done."

Merlin thinks, through lust-infused thoughts, that he should leave. He should just walk out, grab Gwen from the dance floor, and leave. But there's something about the way Arthur looks at him, his eyes bright and the tip of his tongue edging along his lower lip, like he knows how much Merlin hates this god-awful disco club and how maybe he'd rather be somewhere dark and quiet and see their bodies twist together on damp sheets.

Or maybe Merlin's imagining all that, but, fuck, whatever, there's something in Arthur's eyes that's familiar and unplaceable at the same time, and his body had fit against Merlin's just the right way on the dance floor, and the thought of Arthur's mouth on his cock makes Merlin's hips jerk a little. He reaches up to undo the remaining, what, three buttons of Arthur's shirt, undoes his belt and jeans, and slides his hand down to wrap his fingers around Arthur's dick.

Arthur groans, low and rough, and braces a hand on the wall behind Merlin. He's already hard, and his cock is a hot, heavy weight in Merlin's hand. The scent of skin-musk and light, expensive cologne comes off Arthur's skin and it's all Merlin can smell, because Arthur's so close to him, so close to coming, so close to shuddering against Merlin with his mouth at Merlin's neck and his hand reaching down to grip Merlin's.

Merlin teases him for a while to see how long he can make this last for Arthur; rubbing his thumb over Arthur's cockhead, nudging Arthur until he looks up at Merlin again and lets Merlin kiss him hard and rough, fisting his cock and moving his hand in slow strokes.

When Arthur buries his face in Merlin's neck again, mumbles curses and impatient sounds urge Merlin to stop teasing. He sounds almost desperate, his voice harsh and body trembling, and Merlin doesn't give into the urging just yet. He brings Arthur to the edge of arousal, then stills his hand and takes pleasure in the needy whimper that Arthur gives.

After that, it doesn't take much. Arthur likes it when Merlin finishes him off fast and hard, and seems to really like the way Merlin angles his wrist and keeps touching him while he comes. And, god, he comes with the shuddering, breaking kind of sounds that Merlin hadn't even realized he'd been hoping to hear until Arthur's breath is hot against his neck.

A funny, soft expression appears on Arthur's face when he looks up at Merlin, his eyes a little unfocused and … soft. Yeah. He smiles at Merlin, kisses him on the lips, at the line of his jaw, and the corner of his mouth.

Before Merlin can say anything about that expression or the way Arthur kisses him, Arthur drops to his knees and leans in close to nuzzle against Merlin's stomach. He licks his own come off Merlin's hand, kisses the palm, and presses another kiss to Merlin's stomach before nuzzling down lower. First, he sort of mouths along Merlin's erection through his shorts, making little noises of appreciation and nuzzling harder when Merlin arches into the warmth.

Then, the _licking_.

After Merlin's shorts get tugged down, Arthur's tongue moves in careful paths down the trail of dark hair from Merlin's navel back to his cock, it even finds the crease of his thigh and the jut of his hipbone. It's warm, and ticklish, and Merlin can feel with dampness of Arthur's breath on his skin, though when he looks down all he sees is the fall of blond hair over Arthur's face and shoulders. He runs his tongue down the length of Merlin's cock, licks his way back up along the underside, and then hovers, breath and lips so close to Merlin once more.

In case Arthur thinks there ought to be even more licking, Merlin tangles his fingers in Arthur's hair and pushes Arthur's mouth even closer to his cock. He's almost ready to just fuck his way into Arthur's mouth at this point, almost regretting the way he'd teased Arthur earlier.

Just… Almost, yeah, because Arthur's kind of pretty with his hooded blue eyes and pink, wet lips, and his way of darting out his tongue to find the slit at the tip of Merlin's cock.

The arousal that tightens at the base of Merlin's stomach also tightens the twist of his fingers in Arthur's hair, tightens the hold he has on all his senses. He scrabbles at the wall with his free hand, finds no purchase, and, when Arthur's lips slide over his cock, arches his hips helplessly into the sudden warmth.

Maybe he won't be _useless_ after this, but fuck, all right, Arthur can suck cock. And maybe Merlin hasn't received all that many blowjobs in disco bar washrooms before, but this one… Okay. It's his first disco bar washroom blowjob, but that doesn't diminish how good it feels to have Arthur's mouth on him. Warm, wet heat, and Arthur's tongue working his cock, and the pull of arousal growing stronger through his body.

Time blurs again, and Merlin thinks he might slide down the washroom wall after he comes, his limbs suddenly and wonderfully loose, warmth replacing all tension that had built up in his body.

"Hey," Arthur says, sitting next to him on the floor, "come back tomorrow."

Merlin blinks, fuzzy with post-coital warmth, and turns to brush his mouth over Arthur's. "I hate disco."

"Yeah, okay, come during the day, though. Just ask for me, all right? _Arthur_. Pendragon. Don't forget."

"I'll remember," Merlin mutters, his lips against Arthur's, and because the funny, soft look is in Arthur's eyes again, he pulls him in a little closer to keep kissing him.

Later that night, when Gwen asks if he had fun, Merlin says yes. When she asks him whom he met that night, he shrugs, not quite willing to reveal yet exactly how he ended up in the staff washroom with son of the club's owner, promising to return and wondering if he could make Arthur's eyes soften like that again.


End file.
